


And the World was gone

by Orlha



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fluff, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 09:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orlha/pseuds/Orlha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The problem with the soulmate thing is that despite ninety percent of the population of Ark has soulmarks, only five percent of those has ever met their soulmates. It is a legend, a story passed from generation to generation that meeting one’s soulmate would be everything beyond they ever imagine.</p><p>Bellamy might have a soulmark like his sister but he is too busy keeping his sister a secret and alive to even contemplate what his soulmate might be like. Then when his mother is floated, his sister jailed, he’s too busy trying to keep his head afloat to even think meeting her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the World was gone

The problem with the soulmate thing is that despite ninety percent of the population of Ark has soulmarks, only five percent of those has ever met their soulmates. It is a legend, a story passed from generation to generation that meeting one’s soulmate would be everything beyond they ever imagine.

Bellamy might have a soulmark like his sister but he is too busy keeping his sister a secret and alive to even contemplate what his soulmate might be like. Then when his mother is floated, his sister jailed and he’s too busy trying to keep his head afloat to even think meeting her.

Their first meeting isn’t on the dropship. It isn’t even on the corridors of the Ark. It’s when he accidentally bangs his head against her door while cleaning Block E of the jails and he crouches there muttering vulgarities.

The door seems to ring along with his head, Bellamy presses his spinning head against the door with a sigh, hand holding onto the mop. They should have floated him along with his mother. What’s the point of living if there was nothing left to live for? The darkness in him claws, fighting to free itself.

“Are you okay?” the female voice asks from the other side of the door.

“It sounded like you hit your head real bad,” she continues when he doesn’t respond. The small hope flutters in him feebly. Even if those three words were correct, they have been said repeatedly to him before. With only a five percent chance and everything going to the shitters around him, it isn’t like he is going to strike gold in this.

“I’m okay now,” he finally replies. He senses the movement behind the door, an almost gentle sensation despite him not knowing who was behind the door.

“Are you new?” her voice has a hoarse, almost whispery lisp to it, like she’s not used to speaking. Bellamy wonders what kind of person the girl is on the other side of the door and what she is in there for.

“In a matter of speaking.” He wrings the mop and mops the floor slowly. The loneliness in him eases a little with her presence, like it’s right if he’s with her. The odd emotion startles Bellamy and for the first time in a long while, he wonders if this might be his soulmate.

“What date is it?”

It’s an odd question but he indulges her. “September, second. 2149.”

“Thank you.”

He finishes mopping her section and purses his lips, thinking that he should say something. The guard on the hallway notices him

“It was nice meeting you,” she says to him so quietly that Bellamy almost misses it. There’s a wistful tone in her voice like she knows something that he doesn’t, he probably doesn’t but not knowing the full story hasn’t stopped Bellamy before.

“I’ll be back,” he tells her, hands pushing the cart as he moves to the next section. “I promise.”

It is only later that he realises that the section is restricted and he shouldn’t even have been in there. Even with his attempts of bribery with moonshine to the guards, they wave him off, telling him that she’s doomed anyway.

\----

The first time he sees Clarke, she’s pushing through the crowd telling him the air could be toxic, he’s completely blown away by her but seeing Octavia for the first time in a year distracts him. She’s beautiful like delicate glass and he’s not surprised, considering she’s the high born on the Ark.

It’s not until she whispers to Atom, holds his head and hums as Atom dies that Bellamy recognises her voice. The soft, whispery voice that asked him if he’s alright on the Ark. He freezes and stares at Clarke. But the time for first meetings, for romance has long passed. Now there’s only survival.

\----

Bellamy watches her from a distance, the only way he knows. They shoulder the burden of keeping the one hundred alive even though more and more of them dies from accidents, from injuries, from grounders.

She’s stronger than he’s expected her ever to be. The words ‘Princess’ fall out of his mouth but she isn’t a princess, she was never a princess. She’s a queen of her own right. Her path is steep and treacherous and still she shines so brightly even when she thinks she doesn’t.

His heart nearly stops when he hears that she’s sick. He sees Murphy vomit blood and when he sees Derek die from a seizure, he prays really hard that she’s not next. Clarke probably isn’t his soulmate, the chance is far too low, but he can’t imagine running the camp without her. Who is he kidding? He can’t imagine living without her, the sheer idea of her dying causes his stomach to churn violently.

When Connor says that Octavia was the first to touch him, it feels like his world had stopped turning. If Octavia dies and Clarke dies, then what was he going to do?

Bellamy shakes himself out of the paralysing fear. He has to be strong now, make sure Octavia is okay, make sure that Clarke is okay.

Clarke looks worse and worse, even when she looks difficulty standing, swaying from side to side. Bellamy catches her as she collapses. She’s so much lighter than he expected her to be and he can feel her body trembling. It’s apparent that all this while she’s been pretending to be strong, stronger than he’s ever thought she could be. God, this girl is going to be the death of him.

He gets sick, she gets better and he wakes up to her fast asleep by him, her fingers curled around the edge of jacket. Her eyelashes fanned across her pale cheeks, the spots of freckles surfacing from the regular exposure to the sun. He can’t help but brush that stray eyelash from her face. She’s so beautiful and she doesn’t deserve a man like him, not one whose hands had killed innocents - Jaha, Wells, Charlotte.

\----

“Bellamy?” Clarke frowns as he’s helped into her medbay with Jasper and Miller. “What happened?”

“A boar happened,” Miller deadpans.

“It’s just a scratch,” he moans, biting back the groan as she carefully peels his shirt off him. Miller and Jasper quickly retreat, all too familiar the way Clarke gets when she goes into Doctor Mode.

“A five inch wound is _not_ a scratch!” She rubs moonshine onto his wound and suddenly pauses in her motions. “Bellamy?” Her voice catches when she calls his name.

He looks up, quirking an eyebrow at her and sees her staring at his abs. “Like what you see, Princess?” he drawls. The lopsided grin falls off his face when he sees her look, that look like something’s wrong. Perhaps he’s going to die, death isn’t so bad. Clarke would look after Octavia.

She doesn’t say anything, only traces across his abs. His soulmark. He’s forgotten all about his soulmark that sprawls across his abs. “This is my handwriting,” she whispers.

“Are you okay?” she reads it. “Did you know?”

Bellamy licks his lips, her blue eyes don’t even waver as they bore into him. “I had a suspicion.”

“When?”

“September, second. 2149.” He remembers their meeting clearly even though it was a fleeting meeting.

“The janitor.” There is no heat in her words, only a matter of fact and he nods. She brushes his face, thumbing across the creases of his cheekbones and presses her soft lips against his. “Are you okay?” she murmurs.

He pulls her down, sliding his lips over hers, fingers threading through her golden hair. She moans as he sucks her bottom lip, hand cupping her face. His tongue entwined in an intricate dance with hers, her hands gripping his biceps, pressing closer to him. Heat flares in him and Bellamy forces himself to pull away, pressing her forehead against his. “I’m okay now.”

 


End file.
